Bothering Makiere
by kawaiiokama
Summary: ONESHOT! all that New Zealand wanted was a relaxing evening, but thanks to the interference from his troublesome neighbor, that is unlikely to happen. soft AustraliaxNZ, Male!NZ, kinda cute i guess.


Bothering makiere.

Oh New Zealand, I love you so.

I was discontent with the Heatlia New Zealand characters currently on the market. So here, have something I wrote during a half hour fit of homesickness.

Those of you who read this (face it, only New Zealanders really read fanfictions with the character New Zealand in them) be warned that my representation of new Zealand in this fic is of a MALE character, that you may or may not find accurate. As it were, I am a New Zealander and I love my country. And I don't care if you disagree with my interpretation of an average kiwi. Really.

Once again, the writing style is an entirely new one for me. human and country names are interchanged and overused, I barely edited and theres a little bit of shounen-ai fluff chilling out at the end. If you don't like it, then that's cool. Go away. Allright? Sweet.

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><p>Makiere Huia stared at his reflection, eyes narrowed, armed with a comb and a pot of hair gel.<p>

"Right, you." He pointed the comb at the mirror threateningly. "You are going DOWN!"

The massive curl in question, perched quite obviously and unpleasantly sheep-like on the side of his head, made no reply. If anything, it became even more pert. Even more… obnoxiously _cute_.

"Hey, New Zealand, hurry up." Samoa, better known to his friends as Hoko, poked his dark haired head into the bathroom and waved a lamb chop around exaggeratedly. "We just put the stake on the barbie and if you don't hurry up you- what are you doing?" he froze, lamb chop held mid-wave. A bright red flush stained the bridge of Makiere's freckled nose, and he dropped the comb. So typical. He couldn't even fix his goddamned hair without his relations popping in for a random barbecue out of nowhere.

"Nothing! I'm doing nothing! What are you-How long have you been here? I thought I locked the door!"

"You did. But cookie and I were asleep on your couch."

New Zealand thought of his tacky old charity shop couch, piled high with laundry and newspapers and empty cans of Tui. Honestly, it wasn't unlikely he would miss two people crashing there for an indefinite period of time. They would no doubt just blend in with the mess. "… How long were you asleep on my couch?"

"I dunno. Sunday, I think."

New Zealand groaned and placed the pot of gel back on the cracked sink. "I really needa tidy my house."

"Yeah, you do."

"Is there anyone else here I should know about?"

"Nah, but I think Aussie is coming around later."

Another, louder groan. "Are you serious? Why? You know what he's like."

"Hey, don't be such a wimp. So he picks on you. Big deal."

"The bloke's a dickhead!"

"he's your neighbour! Love your neighbour, Makie." Samoa took a big bite of his lamb chop and spoke with his mouthful. "and also bro, you're gunna need more than just that one pot of gel if you don't want him to call you sheepy this time."

New Zealand lost his temper then, picking up the pot of gel and tossing it angrily out the open window in a fit of childish rage. "Who says I care what Australia thinks of me! He's just a stupid koala sucking jerk!"

"Oi!" an angry exclamation from out side, and cookie, the small collection of tropical islands better known as the cooks, poked his head through the window rubbing his temple and holding the pot of gel. "Did yo fullas chuck this shit at me?"

"Oh fuck." Makiere stepped back and stumbled over Hoko, the two trying to get away from the angry islander at the window as fast as possible. "Fuck Hoko, move your fat ass."

"Oi! You get back here!" cookie tried and failed to haul himself through the window. "Oi, OI!" but New Zealand and his cousin had already dashed away, to hide in the pile of laundry and trash on the crappy mustard sofa.

..x…

Makiere scowled as the fingers ruffled his pale blonde hair. He wasn't a child, and yet America just didn't seem to understand. Why was he even here? The two hadn't spoken for years.

"Ah wiwi, your so short and cuuuuute."

Fuck, New Zealand thought. Fuck I'm going to punch him. Wiwi? What the hell? Did he mean kiwi? Was he mildly retarded?

Regretfully, the American was quite serious and functioning at full mental capacity.

"Alfred, why are you here?"

"Christian invited me. Apparently you're holding a meeting about the rugby world cup and I was told there would be food."

That bastard.

Makiere looked hopelessly around his backyard. It was completely packed. Every nation, half of them undoubtedly under the impression they were at Australia's, standing around, socializing, arguing, being generally ignorant.

"Well, I kinda wanted to be with my cousins tonight. Maybe watch the rugby… do you think- COULD YOU STOP!" if there was one thing the kiwi hated it was other people playing with the ridiculous cowlick he had unsuccessfully tried to flatten that same afternoon. Alfred jumped, shocked that Maki had been capable of making such a loud noise, and ceased tugging on it in order to see it spring back into place.

"Thank you!" Makiere huffed and folded his arms across his chest. "Now if you don't mind, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY YARD!"

He spun and his eyes scanned the crowd, looking for something he could stand on. The picnic table next to the rickety corrugated iron fence caught his eye, and he battled his way through the throng of people toward it, finally managing to reach the thing and drag himself onto it.

"Everybody!" he straightened up and pushed hair out of his face. No-one paid attention to him, as always. God, sometimes he felt more invisible than Canada. Resigned, he began flailing his arms and jumping on the table, trying to capture someones attention. "Yoohoo! Everybody! HEY, LOOK AT ME YOU FUCKIN DICKHEAD PRICKS! IM TRYINA FUCKIN TALK TO YOU!" his voice grew hoarse; finally people began Turing their heads. "COME ON, LOOOOOOOOK! OVER HERE! WOO HOO!" exhausted, he stopped jumping and let his arms fall to his sides. The astonished eyes of everyone in the vicinity were on his small, out of breath form. "Hang on a minute." Panting, he held up his hand. "Hang on, jus- just lemme catch my breath." He stood up and squared his shoulders. In silence, the audience watched, still shocked.

"Right!" he placed his hands on his hips. "Okay! I'm New Zealand, I own this place, and I'm busy. You lot are all going to have to piss off now, okay? Gimme a ring maybe tomorrow or something and we can sort something out. Now please." he pointed to the gate on the far side of his property. "Get the fuck off my lawn. Any questions?"

The people looked on wordlessly. But no one moved. New Zealand groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"Please just leave!" he stomped his foot on the table, which wobbled dangerously under his gumbooted feet. "Go on! Shoo!"

And then somewhere, toward the back of the crowd, an anxious hand was raised into the air.

"Yes?" Makiere raised his chin and the person at the back of the crowd stood on his tiptoes so he could be seen.

"Hey, Denmark here."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"yeah… I just have a question about this pie." The nation lifted a plate of the pie New Zealand recognised as being the one he had made for his dinner last night. He was going to murder whoever it was who had opened his refrigerator.

"What?"

"Why is there _meat_ in it? Who puts meat in pie? That's so weird!"

Why is there meat in it.

New Zealand considered beating his head on the edge of the table.

"What do you mean why is there meat in it? What the fuck else are you meant to put in a p- actually, who cares! EVERYBODY OFF MY L-"

"hello? Vhered you say ve vere?" Makiere stopped his speech when he felt a tug on his Canterbury trackies and looked into the eyes of the Russian man eating what looked like one of _his sausage rolls he had specially been saving._ A little bit of him died inside.

"New Zealand."

"Oh, new Zealand! Da, I thought this vas Australia."

"It's not-"

"whats with your necklace?" Greece raised his weary head off the pillow of his arms, resting on the table Makiere was currently using as a stage. How his furious shouting didn't wake the guy earlier it was unknown, but now he was conscious in his seat and squinting at the tiki Makiere wore on a cord around his neck. "it's really ugly."

Makiere promptly stomped on Greece's hand resting on the table.

"ALL OF YOU!" hysterical with anger now, prepared to throw a hearty tantrum if the need arised, "GET! OFF! MY-"

"Hey, Maki, calm down mate. They are here 'cause I called 'em."

He turned so fast he almost fell off the table. The hand resting on his shoulder was large, tanned and calloused. The smell of sea salt and red earth filled his nostrils, the man addressing him was grinning and freckled, sporting a band aid and wearing more khaki than probably decent.

"Want a beer?" he tweeked Makiere's curl playfully.

The New Zealand boy tackled him, shoving him off the table. They crashed to the ground and tumbled, tangled in a scrap none of the other countries present had the guts to stop. Australia knew how to fight feral animals, he had learnd a lot from Steve Irwin, and for a small fella, Makiere was a toughass. It was a even match.

In the far side of the garden, Cookie and Samoa began placing bets.

...x...

"Fuck you." New Zealand held the ice bag to his sore head and sat as far away from Australia as possible. The two had both taken a fair beating but Aussie had probably copped the worst of it, a bloody nose, a missing tooth, and a bruised bone in his wrist. Makiere only boasted a black eye.

Still grinning, Christian leaned back on the sofa, which creaked ominously, and stretched.

"Yeap. The plan pretty much just came together."

"No, seriously. Fuck you, you shit-head."

A broader smirk. New Zealand stared at the mess on his coffee table instead of his neighbour, humiliated, pissed off. The stack of newspapers, L&P bottles and empty pineapple lump packages was teetering, a single bump and it would be everywhere, all over the floor like everything else Makiere owned.

"Are you two done yet?" Samoa sauntered into the room with a pair of beers, Tui for New Zealand and Speights for Aus. They took them gratefully "Cookie has cleared out the yard and then we gunna hit the road. But not until we are sure you two ain't gunna slaughter each other."

New Zealand made an indistinct noise, but Australia nodded in confidence. "Yeah, we are sweet as. Sheepy and I are good buds, aren't we?"

No response, the kiwi just pouted harder to no avail. Samoa cocked his eyebrow, and grabbed his keys from the coffee table. At this Makiere looked up.

"you been drinking."

"just one."

"you good to drive?"

"yeah, I'm fine."

"sure?"

"you want me to do you a pretty little dance to prove it?" he touched the tip of his nose, to prove his co-ordination was okay. "I'm fine."

Content with the response, New Zealand lent back in his seat and lifted his feat to rest on the edge of the coffee table.

"Sweet as. Text me tomorrow arvo, 'kay?"

"kay kay. If the missus doesn't kill me for staying here so long."

"Tell her it was a political thing."

The two laughed at the little inside joke, before clasping hands briefly in salutation. Australia and New Zealand watched Samoa go, and with each step the man took toward the door the atmosphere in the room grew more and more awkward. Soon, it was tick and silent. Australia watched, a little regretful. He hadn't meant for his plan to irritate his neighbour quite as much as it had. It was just a little prank.

"Hey, sheepy. I mean… Maki."

No response. The boy wasn't talking, arms folded across his chest. Australia cleared his throat and the grin slipped a little, "look, Maki, you okay?"

He reached for the curl again, but Makiere jerked away, standing up and walking to the other side of the room. He slumped against the wall and slid down, pulling his knees to his chest. Furious hazel green eyes fixed on Australia, he glared with huge power at the larger nation.

Australia's grin was completely gone.

"All I wanted," Makiere's voice trembled ever so slightly, "was an evening alone with my cousins where I could just relax and chill and have some drinks. And instead, I get YOU." His volume raised to a shout. "I get YOU coming in and messing up my evening, YOU always making fun of me, tormenting me, belittling me. YOU are the worst neighbour ever and I hate you. I really truly HATE you!" bitter tears spilled over the rims of his eyes. It wasn't fair, Australia was always like this. Stealing his racehorse, his pavlova, his rugby. All Christian ever did was abuse and irritate him, and why? What for? Was there any reason at all behind his stupid, cruel actions? New Zealand had never provoked the man or his land. New Zealand made quite a point of never provoking anyone. But enough was enough. The time had come to stop being nice and stand up to the biggest bully who had ever existed.

"I never want to even think of you again, you dipshit. Get out of my house and my country and don't come near me. Ever." He buried his face in his knees and the tight curl of hair on the side of his head fell limp, flaccid and uncurled on the side of his head.

Christian swallowed anxiously, feeling like a prized asshole.

"Maki…" he stood, setting his bear down in the emptiest place he could on the floor. "Maki I actually am sorry." Carefully, so as not to shock the boy, he tip toed over and crouched down before him. Teary eyes fixed on him and watched him warily as he approached. Christian swallowed; up close the soft fan of pale blonde lashes was so much more noticeable. The sprinkle of freckles on a pert little nose, the flush that tears brought to the boys face was sweet and very pretty.

"I don't do these things to hurt your feelings you know." His fingers brushed a soft pink cheek. New Zealand turned his face away and pressed his lips together.

"So why do you do them?"

Australia shrugged.

"I dunno…" the two young men lapsed into silence. After a while, New Zealand stopped crying. Australia adjusted his position, so he was sitting cross legged on the floor and the two were facing each other.

"Hey, Maki?" Aussie gazed at the pile of clothing on the floor. To be ironed, but they both knew and accepted they never would be.

"Mmm?"

"Ever had a crush on someone before?"

New Zealand shook his head, still not uncurling from his little ball. Australia sighed deeply.

"Crushes are when you really like someone, right, but you just cant say it out loud."

No response.

"It's like, you want to be nice, so they will like you, but you don't know how to be nice enough. And you have to get their attention SOMEHOW, right? So… you do some mean things to them instead. Geddit?"

It took Makiere a moment to process what Christian was saying, and by that time the Australian had decided he had better re-iterate in more concise terms.

"I have a big crush on you Maki, okay? That's why I'm so mean to you… don't be insulted."

And though he had had it explained to him, Makiere still didn't understand.

"You mean," he began, raising his head. "That you think that being an asshole will make me like you?"

"… no." Australia answered honestly, after a small pause. "But… I'm not sure how to make you like me, so this will have to do." He took a deep breath and kissed New Zealand briefly on his forehead. Little New Zealand looked up in surprise, but Australia was already standing, heading back to his beer on the coffee table.

"Well." He picked up the bottle and stretched lazily. "I'll best be off. Later, sheepy."

When the front door slammed behind him, Makiere still hadn't moved. He was to busy sitting there on the ground, utterly astonished, and feeling strangely, disturbingly, euphoric.

But these feelings, he decided, were nothing that couldn't be cured easily with a suitable application of mince pie and tomato sauce.

He dragged himself to his fridge eventually, and fixed himself something to eat.

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><p>i dont own hetalia or any of the countries named in this fic and i dont make any moneys from writing this either.<p> 


End file.
